


From now on your troubles will be miles away

by alchemise



Category: Midnight Texas (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, nonsexual food porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 06:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alchemise/pseuds/alchemise
Summary: Dearest friends,We invite you to an evening of food and company to celebrate the closing of this most trying year.All our love,Chuy and Joe





	From now on your troubles will be miles away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Greens](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greens/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide!
> 
> Many thanks to Raine and Shopfront for betaing!

He misses flying the most.

There are a lot of adjustments a fallen angel has to make to living on Earth—so many things lost that can't be replicated down here—but it's the flying that so viscerally reminds Joe of the life he once had.

He used to find an excuse, every few decades or so, to stretch his wings. Some emergency that needed a quick resolution from the air. Some situation where he could be explained away by any potential witnesses: as a giant bird, a monster, a trick of the sun, an angel.

Just feeling the air all around him as he soars, it reminds him of what was once home, made up of clarity and absolutes. Up and down, good and evil, black and white, angel and demon.

Of course, that's why he gave it up, left that life behind. For a demon.

If pressed, if it came down to it, he'd give up the flying too, although he'd grieve its loss. But it would be worth it. Chuy was worth all of it.

\------------

It was Chuy's idea to send out actual, mailed invitations. After successfully closing the veil and stopping evil (for now), they could all use some fun. Homemade invitations to bring those they loved to their home to celebrate that they were all still alive.

Chuy came up with the designs (old-fashioned images of winter landscapes and cozy fireplaces), Joe painted the scenes, and Chuy added a few metallic highlights that made the whole card seem to glow with warmth. Frankly, Joe had gotten tired of months of painting apocalyptic hellscapes and welcomed this change for the domestic.

After the year the Midnighters had had, Joe felt the cards were just the right level of sentimental.

\------------

"What are your feelings on fake snow?"

Joe looked up at Chuy holding a package of white fluff, meant to simulate one of the few things that never came to Midnight. "I'm fairly certain that's a question I've never been asked before. Where are you going to put it?"

Chuy shrugged. "I don't know. I bought it on a whim, but I'm not sure what you actually do with this stuff."

"Table centerpiece?"

"Oh, I like that!" Chuy tore the package open and started fussing with the pile of random decorations he'd accumulated on the dining room table. A few minutes later, he stepped back to reveal an elegant pile of pine cones and holly sprigs, arranged in the center of a pile of the fake snow.

Joe smiled. So far this party was coming together without a hitch.

\------------

They'd always loved end-of-the-year celebrations. Even after centuries living together, as a part of countless societies and traditions across the globe, they always found a way to celebrate the year's passing. With friends, preferably. But if not, in those times when it was just the two of them, Joe and Chuy would still mark another year gone by, together.

They used to go in for elaborate gifts to each other—tokens demonstrating the strength of their love. They got a bit carried away at one point, living in Spain in the 1840s, much to the amusement of their friends who were dragged along with each of them, in turn, to haggle with shipping merchants and argue over import taxes. Joe had given Chuy an early daguerreotype camera, one of the first available on the market. Chuy, it turned out, loved capturing images of the different cities and towns they lived in. For decades, he would methodically convert at least a large closet in whatever home they were living in into a lab to develop the plates. They'd lost most of the collection in a fire a century ago, but a few dozen remained stashed in a trunk that they pulled out periodically to reminisce over. Chuy had bought Joe a bolt of embroidered silk from China, covered with intricate flowers and birds. Joe had hired an elderly neighbor—who'd once sewn gowns for women in the court of Ferdinand VII before her writer husband had been jailed as a revolutionary sympathizer—to turn the bolt of fabric into the most comfortable robe he'd ever owned. Joe had worn that robe until it was so threadbare it barely held together, hating to let go of something that was once so beautiful.

Now, after so long together, smaller things marked their continued devotion.

This year, Joe tracked down an out-of-print novel from the 1960s that he remembered Chuy tearing through one summer when they lived in New England. Chuy had kept making little noises as he read it, of frustration and contentment, ending with a dramatic sigh as he'd looked up to find Joe watching him with a smile on his face. Joe loved seeing Chuy so engrossed in something seemingly trivial but really not at all; it was those moments, those memories, he treasured most.

\------------

The smoothness of the party preparation lasted all the way up until a few hours before the guests were supposed to arrive, just as Joe and Chuy were beginning the intricate dance of timing of what-had-to-go-in-the-oven-when so that all the side dishes would be ready to eat at the same time as the roast. Chuy had drawn up a flowchart so they knew what had to be where in what order. It was supposed to work perfectly.

It didn't work perfectly.

"I think the veil is opening again." Chuy was holding the bag of sweet potatoes that were supposed to start roasting in the oven in ten minutes, according to his schedule.

"In what way?" Joe asked, carefully.

"In the way that this entire bag has gone rotten, even though I just bought them a few days ago. This is definitely a sign of the apocalypse. Right?"

Joe thought for a moment. "Well if you believe some of the accounts of famine as a sign of the coming end of the world, then yeah, the potatoes could be an indication that we're not done with the veil quite yet."

Chuy looked at him askance. "I was _joking_.

The effort of trying to keep a straight face finally broke him, and Joe snorted. "So was I."

Chuy rolled his eyes in consternation. "What are we going to do about this? The sweet potatoes were a core component of the menu. They can't just be replaced, even if we had anything to replace them with."

"I'll call Fiji. You never know what she's got tucked away in her greenhouse."

By dumb luck Fiji actually had a few pounds of sweet potatoes she'd harvested and hadn't gotten around to cooking yet. Everyone would have to ration their portions a bit, but at least the menu wouldn't be unbalanced. She said she'd bring them over immediately, then all they needed was to throw on some honey and cinnamon, roast until soft, and they'd have their simple, yet delicious, side dish.

Sweet potato crisis averted.

\------------

Joe was preparing the ingredients to make a mixture of caramelized onions and cremini mushrooms, which were supposed to be wrapped into a beef tenderloin and roasted as the main course (a new recipe they had their fingers crossed would come out as intended), but he was thinking about dessert. He fell into the rhythm of slicing the vegetables, squinting his eyes a bit from the sting of the onions and then enjoying the satisfying sizzle as they hit the hot oil in the sauté pan and lost their bite. As the aroma of sweet onions, mushrooms, and garlic—all simmering in Madeira—filled the kitchen, it took him a minute to figure out why there was a little alarm going off in the corner of his mind concerning dessert. It was the smell, of course. The stuffing smelled so good he didn't even want to wait for it to be put in the roast before eating it. The problem was that it was the only thing he was smelling. Not the chocolate-peppermint cheesecake that should have been nearly finished baking by now.

Joe stopped stirring and opened the oven door. No odors of chocolate and candy canes wafted out. No heat, either. He looked at the controls. Everything was turned on, it had been working fine just an hour ago (the stupid sweet potatoes had turned out beautifully), but now there was nothing. The stovetop worked fine, but the oven was cold. He fiddled with the controls, even unplugged the whole unit and plugged it back in. Nothing.

Panic set in. "Chuy??"

Chuy walked in from the living room where he'd been finalizing candle arrangements ("Only having electric light is too garish," he's argued, "Candles are homier."). He looked suspicious. "Your tone tells me I'm not going to like what you're about to say."

"No. No, you're not." Joe swallowed. "The oven isn't working."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that our oven just stopped working partway through cooking dinner."

Chuy giggled.

Joe worried he was losing it, but then a moment later Chuy was full-on laughing.

"Oh this just figures, doesn't it? We face the terrors of hell, I barely manage to stop my demon half from taking control, the world comes inches from ending, but it's one holiday dinner that finally defeats us? Please, that is _not happening_." Chuy stalked away to his cell phone and determinedly made a call.

Joe watched anxiously as Chuy negotiated. He knew that Chuy had a tendency to put him on a pedestal: of angelic light and righteousness. When it came to fighting off the minions of hell, sure, Joe was the one to get things done. But day to day—times like these—Chuy kept them chugging along.

Chuy walked back into the kitchen a few minutes later. "Problem solved. Madonna is out of town for the holidays, visiting her family, so the diner is closed up. Olivia is going to get the keys from Creek and let us in to use the kitchen there. Olivia seemed dubious about the entire roast and ovens and cooking things from scratch concept, but I told her it's similar to smelting your own silver bullets and she got on board. Homemade is always best. Lem's still asleep for another two hours, so Olivia will supervise the schedule of dishes that still need to be cooked. She compared it to planning a raid on a highly defended cartel compound and I figured it was best to just agree with her." Chuy nodded, satisfied. "I figure we're maybe a half hour behind but still within the margin of elaborate meal planning fuckery."

Joe wanted nothing more than to wrap Chuy into his arms and demonstrate his appreciation for solving this problem, but the mushroom and wine mixture still needed his attention. He settled for a starry-eyed "I love you" instead.

Chuy waggled his eyebrows in response.

Oven crisis averted.

\------------

Joe finalized the preparations for the roast in their kitchen, so he could bring it to the diner all ready to go in the oven. Chuy grabbed the pan with the raw cheesecake batter, threw some foil on top, gave Joe a quick kiss as he passed (he tasted of peppermint, having clearly been sampling as he packed the dessert up), and then was out the door. With any luck, their friends would eat the dinner slowly and the dessert would have time to cool sufficiently before they dug into it.

The mushroom mixture had finished cooking and was ready to go in the roast. Grabbing their sharpest fileting knife, Joe carefully butterflied the tenderloin. He smoothed it open with his hands, then spread the mushroom mixture evenly across the beef. He tightly rolled it up and tied it off with twine, then seasoned it all over. Satisfied at how well it held together, Joe grabbed their largest cast iron pan and arranged the roast inside it. He'd transport it like that to the diner.

Before heading out, he gathered the grated chocolate and crushed candy canes that would decorate the cheesecake. As he was walking to the diner, balancing the cast iron pan and bag of candy in his hands, he saw Chuy jogging back toward him.

"We forgot about the green beans!"

Joe paused. "Remember the walnut bread, too. You wanted to heat that up first, right?"

Chuy smiled and said, "I think that will be the last of it then. We can finish everything up back home once the dishes are cooked. Back on track!"

Joe sighed in relief, continuing on to the diner as Chuy jogged back home. Year after year, they always pulled this off together. With a little help from friends from time to time.

One of whom Joe found just inside the diner's kitchen. Oliva looked as though she was literally standing guard over the row of industrial cooking equipment. She nodded at Joe as he walked in, explaining which oven Chuy had selected for the cheesecake and pointing to another they had preheating for the roast.

"Thank you, Olivia. We couldn't have managed without your help."

Olivia shrugged. "I like making sure plans come together."

Joe admired the gigantic restaurant stove before him and turned on one of the burners. He seared the outside of the roast to create an even crust, then popped it in the oven. He noted happily that he could smell chocolate and peppermint coming from the oven with the cheesecake.

As Chuy returned with the rest of the ingredients to finish out the meal, Joe smiled contentedly. Now things really were going according to plan.

\------------

They'd only invited those who knew their secrets, which considering how much the population of Midnight had shrunk lately, was most of the town. These were trying times, but this was their home.

When the doorbell rang, both Joe and Chuy were still working in the kitchen: Joe arranging sprigs of rosemary to serve as garnishes on the plates and Chuy slicing delicate curls of orange peel for the hot mulled wine he had simmering in the slow cooker. Final touches of aroma and taste.

All of the dishes were arranged on the dining room table, around the fake snow centerpiece. The use of the diner's kitchen had gone off without a hitch, everything cooked to perfection and safely transported back to their home.

Chuy stopped fiddling with the drinks and moved toward the door.

Joe touched his arm as he passed. "I have something for you. Remember Vermont? That summer?"

Chuy stopped and a grin broke across his face. "Oh you know I do. I have something for you too. I think you'll love it."

"Later? After everyone's gone home?" As much as he loved their friends, that time with just him and Chuy at the end of the night was always Joe's favorite part of their holiday celebrations.

Chuy jerked his head at the sprig of mistletoe he'd hung above the entryway to the kitchen and winked in agreement.

Joe laughed, watching Chuy walk around the corner toward the door.

As he heard the door open and the happy voices of Fiji and Bobo greet Chuy, Joe closed his eyes for a moment. He thought of everything he had around him. The smells of what should be a delicious, if momentarily calamitous, dinner and the sounds of joy coming from the front door as Lem and Olivia now arrived as well. The rest were sure to follow soon.

Their friends knew them both, who and what they really were. They had a home here that was worth fighting for. And for now, peace. He felt free and warm and loved. As a cool breeze reached the kitchen from the open front door, Joe thought it all felt a bit like flying.

He opened his eyes with a smile and went to Chuy's side to welcome their friends into their home.


End file.
